


Mayday

by coconutknightshade



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Pepper Potts, Rogue Avengers, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2020-09-23 00:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutknightshade/pseuds/coconutknightshade
Summary: When Peter arrives at the ER in the dead of night only to find his aunt has died in a car accident, he's convinced that he's going to be put in the system. Needless to say he's surprised when the staff informs him that they managed to get in touch with May's second emergency contact. He's even more surprised when Stark Industries CEO, Pepper Potts, walks through the door.On top of trying to process all his grief, Peter will also have to navigate living under the same roof as his childhood hero as well as keeping his Spider-Man persona a secret.





	1. Emergency Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for boarding Air Mayday.
> 
> If you look to your right you will find that Mayday is a pre Civil War fanfiction. Now if you all will so kindly look to your left you can see that we'll be merely adjacent to Homecoming. Keep in mind that we are expecting a fair amount of turbulence and angst, so please remain seated until we hit clear, fluffy skies. From there we expect a smooth canon divergent flight- Not a single Endgame in sight.
> 
> We hope you enjoy your platonic slow burn fic and thank you for flying Air Mayday.

_ May is dead. I'm alone_. 

Like a broken record the mantra cycles through his head over and _ over and over and over- _

"Peter?" His thoughts are interrupted by a soft voice but he can't look away from his aunt's chest, as if he might detect some minuscule movement the doctors overlooked. The woman calls his name again and finally he tears his eyes away. They're swollen, painfully so, and every five to seven minutes sobs rip anew from his throat. She's caught him during the in-between. 

"Peter, can I get you something?" It's the nurse from before. The one who brought him to the back when he'd come flying into the ER in the dead of night after the call came through. She's petite and brunette and Peter never bothered to remember her name. Tears well up at her question. He desperately wants to tell the woman to please _ god please _ bring his aunt back, but that's not what she had meant. Peter shakes his head no but hiccups, _ 'water please.' _

When the woman slips out the door Peter pulls his phone from his pocket. His hands shake so severely that he nearly drops it twice. He struggles to scroll through his contacts, constantly having to back out of names after his jittery hands accidentally select one. 

It's nearly one in the morning and there's only one person he wants to call. Well two, but one of them lays motionless on the gurney in front of him. He had to beg them to leave him with her in peace. They argued but eventually acquiesced, only coming in every so often to check on him. Peter knows eventually his time will run up. That someone will walk in to discuss with him the _ 'next steps'. _The thought nearly paralyzes him and he digs crescents into the palm of his hand before he gets down to Ned's name. 

The phone rings twice. 

"Peter?" his voice is sleepy, barely awake. "Is everything okay?"

At the sound of his best friends drowsy yet concerned voice Peter breaks down sobbing again. He absently notes the rustling of sheets and the creak of a bed on the other end of the line. It takes a few moments for Ned's voice to break through his sobs. 

"Peter, deep breaths. I need- Peter I need you to _ listen to me_. Do I need to- I'm coming over. Stay put." 

Peter shakes his head even though Ned isn't there with him. _ Nobody is here with me. _

"No," he finally chokes out. "Don't. I'm at the hospital."

"Christ," Ned huffs. "Are you okay? Do you want me to wake my mom? We can come down!" Ned is so caring, so _ thoughtful, _ and once again Peter is acutely reminded of how blessed he is to have such an understanding friend. 

"It's not me, Ned. It's May. She got into an accident and-"

"Is she okay, Peter? Tell me she's okay."

Peter's voice breaks and his throat tightens as he says, taking note that it's the first time he will have to acknowledge the situation out loud, "I can't, Ned. She's not okay." 

He can hear the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line and Peter closes his eyes against the wave of tears. He wraps an arm around his stomach, so sure that he's about to throw up. 

"Peter," Ned says softly, breathless and very much at a loss for words. They both know there are no words that will offer any semblance of genuine comfort. It would merely be Ned attempting to offer it and Peter pretending to accept it. 

"I know," Peter whispers. "I'm so scared, Ned. I'm _ so _ scared. They've- I'm here with her, but I don't know what's going to happen. They're going to put me in the system." 

Peter's on the verge of hyperventilating. He _ can't _ go into the system for so many reasons. The thought terrifies him. Being put with strangers hours after finding out that he's lost the last family member he has… He's clutching at his shirt, attempting and failing to ground himself. 

"My mom and I can come get you. I'm about to wake her and we'll come get you and you'll stay with us." Ned's voice toes the line between resolute and fragile. Peter can hear what he assumes is Ned pulling his pants on and walking out of his bedroom. This _ does _ offer him some comfort. 

"Please, Ned. Come get me. I can't stay here anymore. I can't do this." He's not quite sobbing but it's a near thing. 

Peter doesn't hear Ned's response, he can focus only on the footsteps outside the door. His Spider Sense tickles there at the back of his neck and he holds his breath as the same nurse from before walks in with a styrofoam cup. Except this time she isn't alone. Another woman accompanies her and Peter can't help but feel like she's walking with a _ purpose_. She's wearing black slacks but her hair is a lazy attempt at a bun. She obviously dressed in a hurry and _ god, I can't breathe. _

Before the two of them can even get to him he's already hyperventilating. His phone slips from his hand and Ned's voice calls his name in the distance but Peter is long gone. He's desperately shaking his head, eyes screwed shut and his hands are digging into his shirt, pulling it away from his chest because _ I can't breathe, please god, May, I can't breathe. _

There's a hand on his shoulder and Peter jerks away, opens his eyes to such bright vivid colors that his brain pauses for a second and he asks himself if he's seeing colors he's never seen before. Stars explode across his vision and his body is taking on more oxygen than it knows what to do with and _ god I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. _ Peter tries to bring a hand up to push the hair from his face but he's paralyzed, fear wraps dark tendrils around his heart and squeeze so tightly every muscle in his chest spasms. He needs to control his breathing. _ He needs to control his breathing, _but he can't. And that loss of control shakes him to his core and only ignites the panic even stronger. There are no more tears, his body is too focused on the struggle to pace his breathing. 

The nurse is trying to speak to him, Peter can see the anxiety in her eyes and the movement of her lips, though no sound comes out. This also deepens his panic. He can't _ hear anything _. 

And then he blacks out. 

****** 

When Peter comes to it's to the quiet sound of something beeping off to his left. He's in a white room, laying on a comfortable surface, and there is a needle protruding from his arm. Peter feels… calm? Yeah. Unusually calm. He's faintly aware of the events that played out earlier but he's so _ tired. _It's as he's considering letting sleep take him that the nurse from before walks into the room. 

"Peter," she begins cautiously, "you had a panic attack and passed out. We've given you something to help you relax." Peter blinks owlishly at her as he struggles to pull himself back out of the fog. When he struggles to sit up straight she walks over to help him adjust. 

"My aunt," he trails off quietly. The nurse nods, rubs his shoulder sympathetically, and then turns towards the door as another woman walks in. It's the same woman from before- The one who had triggered the panic attack. This time Peter doesn't have the energy to truly panic. After a few moments of them all watching each other silently the woman steps up next to the bed. 

"Peter, my name is Pamela Garcia. I'm deeply sorry for your loss." Peter swallows thickly and nods his head. "But I'm afraid right now we need to have a tough conversation."

"I don't want to go into the system," Peter's eyes screw shut but are too dry for tears. "My friend is on his way, I can stay with him."

Ms. Garcia and the nurse eye each other knowingly. 

"That," she hesitates, "won't be necessary, Mr. Parker. We've managed to get ahold of your aunt's emergency contact."

At this, Peter frowns. As far as he knew Ben would have been her only emergency contact. 

"You can't…" he trails off. "Ben is dead. He died nearly a year ago." 

Once again the two women side eye each other and this time Peter grows agitated at the exchange. He's missing something. He can sense it. 

"What- What is it?" he says a little harshly. The nurse steels herself before beginning slowly.

"Peter, your aunt had a second contact listed." She looks over to the social worker who picks up where she left off. 

"From what we've gathered over the phone she and your aunt are - _ were _ \- cousins, though relatively distant. You'll likely be staying with her for the time being but we won't be certain for another few hours."

"That doesn't make sense," Peter says, sitting up even further. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and _ damn them _ for the anxiety medication. It's making it hard to _ think_. "May is only my aunt by marriage… Can I be placed with someone this far removed from my parents?" 

_ Christ_. He hopes so. At least it wouldn't be the system. Peter can't imagine May listing someone she didn't know was a trustworthy, responsible, and all around _ good _ person. 

"Well," Pamela quietly laughs, nervous almost, "that actually came up. She asked after you and when we told her the situation… Well she's on her way down."

"With lawyers," the nurse adds. 

The door busts open before he can process what he's been told and a tall redhead sweeps into the room. She's dressed almost haphazardly - in sweats and an oversized MIT hoodie - and she likewise looks like she's there with a _purpose_. Her eyes, red and puffy, soften when they land on him and she offers him a small sympathetic smile. 

Peter's jaw drops. 

_ "Pepper Potts?" _


	2. Overhauled & Destroyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper Potts knows how to run the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! This is your Captain speaking: Thank you for all of the kind and supportive reviews- They're so much appreciated.

"Peter," Pepper says quietly. He doesn't even know how to respond. The two other women in the room back off but don't walk out. "I'm so sorry to hear about what happened. I know… We hadn't spoken in some time but I cared about her very dearly."

"I have no idea who you are," Peter says, bewildered before backtracking. "I mean, I know who you _ are _ I just… May's never mentioned you." Pepper looks wounded but something of understanding crosses her face. 

"As I said, it's been some time." There's guilt in her voice. 

"Like, did something happen?"

Pepper offers another sad smile. 

"Life? I'd just been brought on at SI and your aunt had just taken you in. She and Ben had their hands full and I got swept up with my career. We sort of drifted apart over the years and maintained minimal contact. I think the last time we'd spoken was around the time your uncle passed." Something in her expression shifts. "I should have made more of an effort."

Peter doesn't say anything, because really what is there to be said? He feels guilty at the flicker or betrayal that passes through him in finding out that May had kept something of this magnitude from him, though he imagines she must have had her reasons. Whatever those reasons were, May wouldn’t have listed her down if there had been a monumental falling out. 

"How much longer do I have to stay here?" he asks quietly. 

Pepper pulls herself up straight and begins to reach out to Peter; he thinks she's going to brush the hair away from his forehead but she pauses and ultimately let's her hand fall to her side. Peter is grateful, he really doesn't want anyone touching him right now and he senses that Pepper must have picked up on that. That or she just hadn't known whether or not Peter would welcome the affection from her. Truthfully, right in both regards. 

"Give me ten minutes?" 

***

With all of his super _ everything _ you would think watching the attending nurse pull a needle from his arm wouldn't have made him so woozy, but when Peter stands from the bed and takes a step forward his knees nearly buckle. 

"Easy there," the man says as Pepper walks into the room followed by what must be a hospital administrator and the social worker from earlier. 

"Miss Potts, I understand the situation but you can't just _walk_ _out_ of the hospital with a child not in your custody."

"My lawyers-"

"Your lawyers are working with our administrative and legal team, yes, but until a solution has been solidified we can't discharge Mr. Parker into anyone's care but social services."

Peter involuntarily sucks in an anxious breath and in doing so pulls Pepper's attention over to him. She steps closer and this time does offer him comfort by means of pulling him protectively against her side. Her arm is wrapped tight around his shoulders and he still can't believe that _ Pepper Potts _ is his aunt's cousin. Beyond that, she's the only thing right now that stands between he and the system and despite not knowing her in the least he leans heavily into her protective embrace. 

"If you understand the situation, _ Ms. Garcia_, then you'll understand that Peter doesn't need to be here any longer than he already has been. He needs to be in a _ safe _ environment that doesn't cause him any more duress than he's already been put through tonight." She gently pulls Peter alongside her, pushing past the social worker and out into the hallway. Peter winces at the following sound of heels against tile and he tugs nervously at the hem of his shirt, praying silently that he doesn't have an overstimulation episode coming on. 

"Miss Potts, please understand-"

"I do understand," Pepper says sharply, turning to face the woman fully. "Listen to me carefully. I'm taking Peter home with me-"

"But-"

"And if my lawyers haven't found a solution by morning then you're welcome to call my office at that time for further discussion." The implications make Peter shake.

_ "Miss Potts!" _The woman's voice is sharp, more aggressive and commanding of attention, but Pepper doesn't so much as bat an eye. Instead she gives Peter's shoulder a comforting squeeze before walking over to the social worker. 

"Listen, I understand the position you're in, and I respect what you do. I understand that there are protocols in place to protect both the children and the hospital. I understand that it's an issue of liability. But at the risk of sounding too much like my fiance, I _ don't care_, Ms. Garcia. Not in this case- Not when it comes to Peter Parker. I know that you think you're doing what's best for him, but I'm going to fight with whatever money and resources I have access to because _ I'm _ going to do what's best for that kid and I can promise you it's getting him out of here and taking him home with me." She turns on her heel and walks back over to Peter, wraps an arm once again securely around his shoulders, and guides him to the elevator before the two women can even deign to respond. 

"Quickly," she whispers with a weakly attempted tone of humor, "before they realize I'm legally kidnapping you." 

"Don't they know who you are?" His response is monotone but the corners of his lips quirk in a way that makes Pepper grin. 

*** 

Peter is still trying to process everything that's transpired over the last several hours as he slides into the sleek black vehicle waiting for them outside. When he closes his eyes he can see May's lifeless form on the gurney, the way she hadn't moved when he sobbed and begged her to wake up. When he opens his eyes he's hyper aware of how his body is nearly plastered to Pepper's side, absorbing her body heat in hopes that it will help him to stop shaking. 

"I left my phone," he says absently. 

"I'll have Happy pick it up in the morning." She's tapping away on her own phone. Peter doesn't have the energy to be curious as to what she's doing. 

"Happy?" he asks in confusion. There's a grunt from the front seat.

"That's me, kid. Sorry to hear about your aunt."

"Oh. Um, thank you?" Peter doesn't want to hear any _ sorry_'s. Hearing it means once again acknowledging it and he's doesn't want to think about that. "Where are we going?" 

Pepper finally looks up from and pockets her phone.

"We're headed to Stark Tower. That's where our penthouse is." She gives him a cautious smile. "I hope that's okay."

It's not okay. It's very much _ not _ okay. Peter doesn't want to go to Stark Tower. In fact, he doesn't want to go anywhere other than home. He doesn't want to think about how leaving their apartment several hours ago was the _ last _ time he'll have ever walked out. 

And there are the tears. He tries valiantly to keep them at bay, but to no avail. Once again he brings the sleeve of his shirt up and wipes it across his face before pinching his nose in hopes that it'll stem the snotty running of it. He feels so _ gross _ and his eye sockets _ ache_. He just wants to go home. He wants to walk in and find May on the couch with a book- Wants to flop down and ignore her weak protests as he settles himself under the blankets with his head on her lap and he _ wants _ to fall asleep to the comforting feeling of her hand combing through his hair. He just wants _ May_. 

"Peter?" Again Pepper moves forward and then thinks twice about touching him.

"I just," he tries to pull it together. "I just really want to go back to the apartment, Miss Potts. _ Please_." 

Even in the darkness he takes note of the way Pepper meets Happy's gaze through the rearview mirror. He sees the slight shake of Happy's head. 

"Peter, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I don't think it's very healthy." 

Hearing it rips at Peter's heart and stomach. It takes everything in him not to break, not to let the looming threat of another panic attack pull all of his attention away from the present. His voice is more firm when he responds. 

"Please, Miss Potts. Tonight has been one of the worst nights of my life. _ Please _ just let me sleep in my own bed." He's again digging crescents in the palm of his hand, hoping that she'll understand why he needs this so much. 

"Don't you think it might be too much?" Her tone is one of genuine concern but Peter can hear the wavering.

"Don't you think this entire night has been too much? I just want to sleep in my own bed. I want- I need something to feel normal. Even if it’s just an illusion. My whole life has just been overhauled.” _ And destroyed. _ There’s no going back. _ God. _ He really does just want to curl up in his own bed. It'll be the last night he spends in the apartment. He knows this, and it's going to hurt like _ hell _ to walk back through the door but if he doesn't do it now he'll never get that closure. He won't be brave enough to make that decision if he's too well rested. This sleep-drunk feeling is the only way he'll draw the courage. 

"Okay, Peter," she says softly. "What's the address?"

***

They're almost there when Peter shoots up straight with a small gasp, startling both Pepper and Happy. She lays a hand on his shoulder but he's already turning back to her. 

"Miss Potts, I hate to ask but - _ uh _ \- can I please borrow your phone?" Her eyebrows knit together but she doesn't say no, so he continues. "It's just that I called Ned- uh, my best friend - earlier and he and his mom were going to pick me up at the hospital. That was before the panic attack and _ god _ they were probably there when we left." He drops his head into his hands and feels tears slip down his cheek. It's not something worth crying over but honestly with his emotional state, even the smallest thing right now is liable to bring him to tears.

"Do you want me to make the call?"

Peter shakes his head. "I don't want him to know. I mean, no offense or anything, but I don't think I want to have that conversation right now." Pepper’s expression is soft as she nods without further comment. Peter still manages to find himself surprised that _ the _ Pepper Potts has handed him her phone. That _ the _ Pepper Potts will very likely become his legal guardian and _ christ, _ that means he's guaranteed to meet his childhood hero- _ Tony Stark._ Any other day the thought would have him spinning, but at the moment he can't muster up any feelings beyond- _ huh, imagine that. _

This time Ned picks up on the first ring. 

"Peter?" he answers, panicked, guessing that the only other late night call would still have to be his best friend.

"Yeah, Ned. It's me. I'm okay." He sighs and turns so he can let his forehead drop to the cool glass of the window. He lowers his voice but it doesn't matter much. The rest of the car is completely silent save for the sound of the air conditioner. 

"What happened? It sounded like you were having a panic attack and then the call just dropped." Peter lets out a breath that could almost be confused for a laugh. 

"It _was_ a panic attack. I blacked out and everything. I think my phone cracked when it hit the floor. It's still at the hospital."

"Where are you, Peter? You never told me which hospital you were at and not even my dad could get through to someone who would give him information on whether you _ or _ May was there." Ned's father works with the police department and has a good sense of how to navigate a lot of red tape. Apparently, this time, he's met his match. "You aren't at a foster home, are you? Maybe they’ll let me stay the rest of the night with you."

"No, Ned. I'm okay. May had a cousin listed as a second emergency contact and she came to pick me up. I'm on the way to my apartment though." They're driving into Queens now and Peter's chest clenches. It might be the last time he ever lives - _ lived _ \- here.

"Do you want me to come over?" Ned asks softly. And the thing is, even though it's nearly three in the morning, Peter knows that Ned will absolutely do it. Even if it means sneaking out. And while very much appreciated, Peter would never ask his friend to move about town like that at this time of night. 

"That's okay, Ned. You should head back to bed and I'll text you when I wake up." Peter glances up at the night sky, hoping in doing so he'll stop any tears that threaten to fall. He's tired, his _ everything _ begging for sleep. His whole body aches and the idea of just walking sounds daunting. 

"I'm sorry about," Ned hesitates. "I'm sorry about everything, Peter. Is there anything I can do?" 

Peter smiles and he takes note of his reflection outlined in the window as they pass underneath the street lamps. "You're already doing it, Ned. Thanks for answering your phone in the middle of the night." 

“Always. I mean, you _ are _ the only one whose calls bypasses the _do not disturb _ setting.” Peter can hear the smile in his voice and it makes something warm settle in his chest. He does kind og with Ned could be there with him. Though at the same time, he doesn't want anyone to so much as speak to him. He doesn't want anyone looking at him _or_ touching him. Instead he wants to cry and scream and throw a fit, so of course he doesn't want anyone around him. Right? Yeah, nobody. But Christ, he doesn't want to feel so _alone_.

They say their goodbyes just as the car comes to a stop outside of the apartment building. Peter sucks in a silent breath as he steps out into the frigid night air and stands frozen on the curb staring up at the building. When Pepper comes to stand beside him he silently hands her the phone with a whispered, _ 'thank you.' _

"Peter, you don't have to do this. Happy can take us both over to the tower." Before she even finishes Peter is shaking his head and pulling out his key. 

"My own bed," he says almost to himself as he takes one step and then another towards the apartment he's spent most of his life in. This might be the last time he ever makes this walk up these steps. Will likely be the last time he ever twists the key into the lock and steps inside. 

Peter feels like dying. 

Everything smells like home. His backpack is tossed haphazardly onto the floor, he's got three pairs of busted up sneakers by the front door and the kitchen _ still _ smells of May's burnt food. He's got textbooks spread across the coffee table and _ god _ Peter feels like he might throw up. 

He's overwhelmed. Too much stimuli. Too much _ emotion. _

Peter races to the bathroom and falls to his knees, heaving nothing but spit and bile into the toilet. He's so _ alone_. The thought plays again and again as he sobs over the toilet, dry heaving every so often. He digs his hands into his hair and absently pulls on it as he squeezes his eyes shut. The muscles in his stomach burn like fire and likewise breathing seems to pull at every muscle in his chest. He's got his cheek pressed to the seat of the toilet, not giving any thought to just how gross it is, and is nearly drifting off when there's a soft knock at the door. 

"Peter?" Silence. "Peter, I'm going to come in now, okay?" 

Peter doesn't budge when the door opens, his eyes flicker up to her for only a moment before they close again, but not before noting the way her eyes glisten with fresh tears. He doesn't flinch when at last she gives in and brushes the sweaty hair away from his forehead and hooks a hand under his arm. 

"Come on, let's get you into bed."   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Follow me on Tumblr at [coconutknightshade](https://coconutknightshade.tumblr.com/) for more Irondad & Spiderson content as well as future snippets!*


	3. Lighthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awe and disbelief Peter feels as he stares up - face nearly plastered against the window - at Stark Industries distracts him from the agony that's made a home in his chest. The building is a beacon against the night sky, and fleetingly Peter wonders what a lighthouse must look like from a ship lost at sea. Wonders if it brings the same sense of awe to those sailors as Stark Tower does for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Siri, how do I apologize for taking a bazillion years to update? 
> 
> This is a hefty one, but I hope it makes the wait worth it. Pepper Potts is a Queen and this story is as much about her and Peter's relationship as it is Tony and Peter's. Strap in, we're long-hauling this IronFam fic.

Peter feels awfully hollow. Which, after the trauma of the night, seems a given.

At this moment, however, the grief settling heavily in his chest isn't for himself, but rather the woman who'd pulled him gingerly from the bathroom floor with a gentleness reminiscent of May. Pepper had run a washrag under warm water and, sensing his bone-weary exhaustion, wiped the sweat and sick from his face before leading him out into the hall. They hit the living area and her steps falter, unable to mask the uncertainty and loss. It's then that Peter's chest tightens, a new wave of grief washing through him.

A bad idea - The whole thing.

Pepper Potts hasn't stepped a foot in this apartment _ever_, and Peter can only imagine her own grief in having finally done so under such tragic circumstances. There's a modicum of guilt in her expression that Peter's all too familiar with. It had settled itself in his chest all too comfortably after Ben's passing. For weeks Peter had kept his gaze fixed firmly on the floor whenever he'd made his way from the bedroom to the kitchen, unable to risk the suffocating emotions that accompanied memories of the man who'd followed him out on that unforgiving night.

Peter feels it now in his chest, the war raging within to keep his eyes downcast, to avoid sparking the raw nerve within him, but knowing deep down that this was it - Now or never if he wanted to imprint one last time where he'd grown up. His _home_.

"We don't have to stay." His voice is quiet, fingers wrapping around her wrist before adding a rushed, "You don't have any clothes and, and we don't have a third bedroom."

Silence hangs between them just a hair longer than is comfortable, and when Pepper finally cuts through, her tone is low, serious. "Is that really what you want, Peter?"

_It really isn't._

The silence that once again hangs between them is answer enough, and Pepper turns him around, leads him towards a door he _knows_ she can't be sure is his bedroom but does just happen to be.

"I'm no stranger to crashing on a couch. May-" she chokes off, clearing her throat before, "I spent one eventful summer crashed on your aunt's sofa, so."

Peter nods, recognizes the underlying _'I won't be able to sleep anyway' _left unspoken. There's an entire shelf on their bookcase reserved exclusively for photo albums. Maybe she'll find them. Some buried piece of him wants to turn away, to pull them from the shelves and pour through them, but right now he can think only of the invitation of warmth extended to him in the form of a bed he'll never sleep in again. It's after he's finally shucked his pants and curled into warm snug sheets that everything spills over for what feels nothing short of the hundredth time. Where the energy for another breakdown stems from is beyond him, but nausea washes through him once more, and gut-wrenching sobs shake his body and _christ_ his eyes _throb_ now. He tries to bury his face in the pillow to muffle the sound, but by the way he can hear Pepper shuffling around just outside the door, no doubt hesitating on whether she should knock, he knows he's failed and thus wholly gives up on bothering at all.

After what feels like forever, his tears finally subside to the occasional sniffle and threatening tremble of his jaw. He lies there, eyeing the ceiling between lazy, tired blinks. There's comfort in the hollowness blossoming in his chest before consuming him entirely; he feels broken in a way so unlike his grief following Ben's passing. This must be what it feels like to be so profoundly and utterly alone in the world.

Pepper's low voice from somewhere off in the apartment echoes through the hollow of his mind in such a way he doesn't even bother to process.

_"They say she likely died on impact, without suffering. There's a lot of gray area in 'likely.'"_

Peter closes his eyes against the words, sure he'd been given the same information but having conveniently buried them for the time being. _I'm gone and alone. _What details are left to matter?

_"Pep, I'm- How are you feeling?"_

Tony Stark - The man's voice alone should garner _some _sort of reaction from him if even just a _pinch_ of excitement. Peter's heart remains ever steady, not so much as a skipped beat in response.

_"I'm doing the best I can, given the circumstances."_

_"How is the kid doing?"_

_"Devastated. I mean, I'm- I'm not doing okay, Tony. But I can't even fathom what he's feeling right now."_

_"I can."_ His tone is soft, and Peter wonders idly if this is what pity sounds like in the face of having lost the last of a family whose love for him was pure and unconditional. Different from that with Ben, this grief is one he'll face alone. _"It's not going to be pretty. Not for a long while. After Jarvis… I don't even remember the months following." _

_"Alcohol?"_

_"Not with this. Truth is, I had sunk so deep I didn't have the stomach for it. Or the energy. I slept any chance I got, and even then borrowing time I didn't have for it."_

_"Oh, Tony." _

_"It was a long time ago. But, Pep, you never truly move on. You just learn to live with the pain."_

_"What am I going to do?" _

_"Not a mountain yet you haven't climbed. For the time being, the best you can do is just be there. Are you sure you don't want me to swing by?"_

_"I don't think that's a good idea, Tony. You're… A lot." _

_"I resent that, but go on."_ Pepper huffs with a hint of amusement. Peter rolls onto his side, pulls the thick comforter over his head, and wishes he could muffle the sound of their voices.

_"I mean, I think meeting you this soon might be a lot to handle given everything he's going through." _

_"Alright, no meeting the kid for a few days." _

_"I don't think we can avoid it for quite that long."_

_"You'll be home tomorrow?"_

_"Tomorrow evening, I suspect. I need you to take care of a few things for me." _

_"Anything." _

At last, Peter drifts off, Pepper's tone slipping into something of a pleasant hum in the background as she asks her fiance to step in as acting CEO for a time and to _please have the last bedroom down the hall cleared out of tech and open wires._

_\--- _

The sun has barely crept over the horizon when Peter finally stirs. He'll be lucky if he's slept longer than a mere few hours, and Peter's doubtful it's been even that. Regardless, he's feeling wide awake, eyes still aching - no surprise there - as do the muscles of his stomach from the time spent bent over the toilet not so long ago. Memories of the previous night overwhelm him, but he's too tired to cry. _This headache, though._

Dragging his blanket with him, Peter drags himself from the bed and towards the door. He doesn't need to press his ear to the crack to know that Pepper has managed to fall asleep on the sofa, but doing so makes him feel like a child again; feel like he's waiting for Ben and May to fall asleep before he's safe to sneak into the kitchen for illicit snacks.

Tonight he's not aiming for snacks, and his heart drops into his stomach as he slips the door open and tiptoes across the living area beyond Pepper's sleeping form and over to May's room. There's no reason to sneak. He's _Spider-Man_, he doesn't _need_ to sneak. Somehow, it just isn't the same without doing so.

Peter wants to be six again. _Christ_. He wants to sneak through the apartment, into the master bedroom and up into May and Ben's bed. He wants Ben to tickle him until he's squealing while being dragged up into the center of the bed where he can snuggle between the two of them, feeling safe and warm. But, as he crawls into May's empty bed, he can't help but think that he'll never feel safe and warm again.

Still too exhausted to cry, Peter lies there feeling empty. He wraps around May's pillow and buries his face against it, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and perfume. When Peter closes his eyes, he sees her dancing to some old 70s song he loved to give her a hard time about; he sees her curled up on the couch reading a book and shoving what should have been contraband snacks that late in the night into her mouth. Peter just sees _her._

Tears prickle as he plays over everything he would say to her if the universe were to give him one more chance. Falls asleep _begging_ the universe to let him wake up, and it be yesterday morning.

\---

_"Yeah, Happy, just be quiet."_ Peter hears something hit the floor in the kitchen and he winces. _"Happy!"_

_"What? Okay, I'm trying!"_

_"I know, just - I don't want to wake him."_

_"It's five in the afternoon, Pepper. Don't you think it's a bit past rise and shine?"_

It's _five in the afternoon_? Peter bolts upright and instantly regrets it when his head spins and stars speckle his vision. It's been too long since his last meal and with his metabolism, well. He falls back against the bed with a groan, lazily listening to the conversation in the other room. By the sound of it, Pepper has kept herself busy while Peter slept the day away. Things have been boxed up, and Peter's throat tightens as he worst-case imagines what his home will look like when he steps out into the living room. It sounds like she's at least cleared out most of the kitchenware - Something about non-perishables sent off somewhere they'll be needed. Peter hopes May's greased up and somewhat scorched cookbooks remain untouched.

_"The bookcase next? I mean, we can hire a team for this, Pepper."_

_"You wouldn't consider this a hands-on aspect of security, Happy? You're helping me 'secure' things." _Her voice is teasing, but Happy huffs in thinly veiled agitation.

Peter swings the comforter off onto the floor before dropping his arms spread out beside him onto the bed. _Pepper Potts._

His new guardian? There'd been nobody banging down the door, nobody waking him and shipping him off to another place. It's probably a safe bet that he'll be sticking with her. At least for the meantime. Which means moving in with her… Which means moving into her - _their _\- penthouse.

_Stark Industries_.

Now, with the sun streaming bright and unforgiving into May's bedroom, Peter lets out a breath. It's unfathomable. Not just finding himself in the _presence _of Tony Stark - his childhood idol and the man who saved his life once upon a time at the Stark Expo - but _living_ with Tony Stark. The man who revolutionized sustainable energy. _Iron Man._

The throbbing at the base of his skull is growing more persistent, and Peter groans, pulling himself into a seated position once more. Slowly, this time. Somewhere rattling around in his head, the theme song to that _really_ old show with Will Smith plays. He probably should get up. It's _five in the afternoon._ He hasn't slept this late in ages… Not since before Oscorp. Before _Spider-Man_.

"Fuck," Peter croaks, dragging a hand down his face. How in the absolute hell is he going to pull off living under a Stark rooftop - _Iron Man's roof_ \- and continue as a Spider-Man? Sharing that little fun fact about himself is in a whole other universe of options. It'll require a level of creativity, but when has Peter Parker ever turned down a challenge? Besides, the distraction will be healthy for him.

Yeah. Healthy.

\---

Peter is grateful that, when he steps into the living room, everything looks mostly as it had the night before. A box or two here and there, all of May's throw blankets folded neatly on the floor beside one of them. From his position he spots Pepper leaned back against a cleared off and wiped down kitchen counter, right elbow resting on her left arm so she can subtly hide an amused grin behind her hand while Happy paces back and forth across the kitchen, ranting about something related to Tony and the Avengers. Peter's brows shoot nearly to his hairline because, wow. _Yeah_. Living with Pepper and Tony means close proximity to the other Avengers as well.

Spider-Man might _possibly_ require a bit more creativity than initially thought but, hey. Challenges and all that whatever.

Pepper and Happy both freeze when Peter pulls shut the door behind him- Pepper looks at him with confusion, eyes dancing between the door he walked out of and the door she definitely remembers tucking him into. Still, she buries the confusion in favor of a cautious smile.

"Good morning-"

"Afternoon," Happy interjects gruffly. Pepper rolls her eyes.

"Good afternoon, Peter. Hungry?"

The word alone has the demon that is Peter's ever-hungry stomach trying to make contact with the outside world. He laughs a little awkwardly, scratching the base of his neck and steps further into the living area and crossing over into the kitchen.

"I could eat, yeah."

"Good thing I bullied Happy into bringing over a few boxes of pizza. I figured pepperoni is universally neutral - Hope that's okay." She seems to pause for a minute before turning towards him fully and adding, "Are you a vegetarian?"

"Not even close," Peter nearly chokes on his food, the suggestion alone having pulled a huff of amusement from him. By the time she'd so much as finished speaking, he'd been at the table stuffing his face, completely ravenous. Happy rolls his eyes, a flicker of something bordering between disgust and amusement there. Pepper slides into the seat across from Peter and folds her arms on the table.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Like a rock," he admits truthfully, baring the relocation. "Could probably use another few hours, though." Peter ignores the way Pepper glances up at Happy and continues eating.

"Listen, Peter. I understand that things are about to be rough in a lot of ways. It's going to _suck_. I'm hoping, though, that maybe I can help it suck a little less?" There's hesitation in her voice, and with the amount of hesitation Peter's heard in the last however many hours, he's about sick of it already. Regardless, he puts down his food and meets her gaze. "There's a room for you back at the penthouse… I wanted to ask whether or not you'd like to bring all the furniture from your bedroom, or if you'd like something newly furnished. You could pick everything yourself."

Peter sits back against his chair, confused. They can't do that for him. It would be _way_ too expensive. Weird enough imagining himself just _walking_ into the penthouse, let alone furnishing a _room_ there. Besides, shedding his furniture - furniture May and Ben provided for him all those years ago - feels like a betrayal to their memory.

"That's - I really appreciate the gesture, Ms. Potts, but I can't ask you to do that. I love what I've got, and it's all been really hardy over the years. If it's okay with you, I'd like to keep it all."

The smile Pepper returns is filled with warmth and understanding. "Of course, Peter."

He gives the closest thing to a smile and slowly takes another slice of pizza. "This means I'm not going into the system, right?"

Something in Pepper's eyes darken in a way Peter doesn't quite understand and her voice is assured and steady when she says, "You're not going into the system. It's all been taken care of."

"How did they get around it?" Peter absently wipes his hands on his pajama pants, and Happy rolls his eyes, _again_, before wordlessly handing him the paper towels.

"It took some digging, but we found outdated documentation where May had me listed as an emergency contact of yours after Ben. It gave us the basis we needed to file for temporary custody. In the meantime, my legal team is working towards a permanent solution."

"Thank you," Peter says quietly by means of response. "For everything. I'm basically a stranger, and you still- And with being a CEO… I just really appreciate this all."

After a moment of hesitation, Pepper leans forward, stretching her arms across the table to gently take his hands in hers. Peter doesn't flinch, but it's a near thing.

"I know, Peter, that it doesn't feel like it right now, but you're my family. I can't apologize enough for my absence in yours and, and May's life, but I'm here now. Here for _you_. And I will fight with all I've got to make sure that you are safe and have everything you need."

Peter swallows thickly in the face of her resolute determination. He pulls his eyes away from where her hands rest over his to meet her gaze. It's filled with sincerity, and while Peter doesn't doubt that sincerity, he does doubt the overarching reality of the follow-through. And while Peter can't deny the weary echo of hope that sparks weakly in his chest, the _reality_ is Peter has lost the entirety of the only family he's ever known. Honestly, he's not sure he cares to cultivate a new one. Though her voice is kind and her words thoughtful, she can't possibly understand what he's going through right now. _She never will._ Still, as a gesture of good faith, he gives her hands a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

"Alright," Happy cuts in, tucking his phone into an inside pocket of his coat. Peter hadn't even noticed the man step away. "Moving team is on their way to pack everything up. No rush, Kid, but they're about to get all up in your room, so if there's anything you want to grab before we go, now's the time."

Peter nearly trips over himself, getting to his room - Getting to his _suit_.

It's a weird feeling. Standing in the center of your childhood bedroom, surrounded by your _childhood_, knowing that things will never be the same - That once you walk out that room, that's it. Game over. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.

Peter hooks the duffle strap over his shoulder, takes those final damning steps out of his bedroom for what he knows to be the last time and gently, reverent almost, closes the door behind him. It feels like the end of an era.

\---

The awe and disbelief Peter feels as he stares up - face nearly plastered against the window - at Stark Industries distracts him from the agony that's made a home in his chest. The building is a beacon against the night sky, and fleetingly Peter wonders what a lighthouse must look like from a ship lost at sea. Wonders if it brings the same sense of awe to those sailors as Stark Tower does for him.

"First time seeing it in person?" Peter draws away from the window, bashful at Pepper's words. Her playful expression falters, and she lays a hand on Peter's knee. "Don't be embarrassed. Sometimes I still catch my breath when I see it."

"It's self-sustaining," Peter recites quietly, absently, as he once again turns towards the view and completely missing the fond grin Pepper shoots his way.

They ride together in silence for the next fifteen minutes. Peter's eyes have fallen shut, and he presses his forehead to the cold glass as he picks absently at the leg of his jeans and tries not to think of how May would react to him finally meeting his idol in person. _Tony Stark._ Of all the ways it could have gone down, why does it have to be like _this_? Why does it have to be when he's at his lowest- weak and vulnerable.

"Ms. Potts," he sits up suddenly. "Were you able to pick up my phone from the hospital?"

He doesn't miss the way Pepper's eyes flick up to meet Happy's through the rearview mirror, and Peter catches himself before audibly groaning. It was a universal look that meant he wasn't going to like whatever followed.

"Sorry, Kid. The nurse told me you dropped it."

Peter's eyes immediately glass over, and he tries not to tear up as he watches Happy shift before passing something over his shoulder. The screen is shattered, shards missing and all. This time he doesn't hold back the pained groan and lets his head drop back against the seat of the car. In all fairness, the screen had cracked long before the fall and as such had already been pretty aggressively banged up, but. Of course. Because why not, right? Peter itches to text Ned to tell him where he is and what's going on. And yet, he's kinda sorta not ready to have that conversation; not prepared to voice everything he's about to walk into.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers Pepper's voice but struggles to tune back in.

"- tomorrow."

"Um, I'm sorry?" Peter turns red, but Pepper's expression is nothing short of patience.

"I said I'll make sure we get you a replacement in the morning. Tony has sleek, new prototypes strewn all about his lab. He won't miss one."

Peter's eyes widen as he says all too quickly, "No, that's okay!" He waves his hands in the universal sign for _god no, please, I'm not a charity case_. Well, universal for Peter. "Really, I don't need anything fancy. We could just have this one fixed up!"

"I don't think Tony will let you bring any phone into the house that _isn't_ a StarkPhone." Her tone is light and playful. Peter knows she can see right through him as she tries to offer him an easy out… An easy way to accept what she's offering without feeling guilty. Peter appreciates the gesture for what it is, but it doesn't keep him from wincing.

It's not much longer until they're pulling into what has to be the most elite parking garage Peter has ever seen. Again, Peter finds his face plastered to the window as Happy pulls into a spot not far from the elevator shaft.

With the sleeve of his hoodie, Peter absently wipes the fog left by his breath from the window and hoists the duffle over his shoulder as he steps out of the car. The garage is truly massive. At least three tight spiraling stories and Peter spins in a slow circle to take it all in.

"This is amazing," he says under his breath, though the acoustics of where he stands in the middle of what feels like an _arena_ carries his voice.

"Tony and his toys," Happy mutters indignantly.

Peter isn't listening, though. There, not far off to the right, sits a beat-up, broken down… "Chevrolet?" He glances over to where Happy and Pepper are standing by the elevator, watching as he approaches the vehicle. Happy snorts, and Pepper elbows him with a chastising look.

"It's a 1956 Continental Mark II, actually. It was his father's, Howard." Peter only nods in response.

"It's," Peter runs a hand down its long hood before glancing up at the two of them with a hesitant grin, "ugly."

This time when Happy snorts, it's in amusement and Pepper's surprised laughter echoes through the garage. "That's what I keep telling him. Maybe he'll listen to you, though."

The hesitant grin never leaves his face, and, for a moment, Peter feels almost normal. Like his world hasn't entirely shattered.

Peter's awe with the building only magnifies when he steps into the bright, overly spacious elevator.

"Good evening, Ms. Potts. Should I let Boss know you're home?"

Peter's jaw drops, because? _Tony Stark's mind._ He spins another circle, mouth slightly agape as he looks for a camera. While he doesn't expect anything grossly obvious, he does expect his sharp eyes will spot, ya know, _something_. No dice. Through amazement, Peter misses the way Pepper side-eyes him as if working on parsing something together. "No, I don't think so, FRIDAY. Let's hold off."

"That is _so_ fuc-dging cool!" Peter turns bright red, wincing at his failed attempt of a smooth recovery."

Pepper never pulls her eyes away from the lights illuminating the floor numbers above the door with an amused grin. "Yeah, it is fudging cool, isn't it?"

\---

It comes as no surprise that the inside of the penthouse is even more massive than the private garage. When Peter steps out into the open living area, his jaw drops as he surveys his surroundings. In all its futuristic glory, the kitchen area sits off to the right and opens further into the overwhelming dining and living area. Peter can't imagine actually putting use to all the space. What a way to live.

Peter pads into the kitchen after Pepper as she pulls two bottles from the fridge, tossing one his way. He catches it with ease, uncapping and taking a sip in one fluid motion, still stepping further into the space.

"FRIDAY," Pepper cuts through the silence, "say hello to Peter."

"Hello Peter, I am Mr. Stark's personal A.I."

Peter looks again towards the ceiling in awe, knowing already that he won't spot a camera, but giving it a go nevertheless. Circling an island that seems the only barrier between the kitchen and living area, Peter pulls himself up onto a barstool and meets Pepper's gaze when she winks at him and says, humor coloring her voice, "That's a funny way to say _personal chaperone_."

It does the job, and Peter snorts in amusement.

"At least he gets to pick his chaperone," Peter says lightly, spinning the barstool around to further survey the vast expanse of, just, _everything_. The wall farthest from him is near entirely floor to ceiling windows, and he's itching to cross the room. He feels irrationally childish almost in his uncertainty of how far from Pepper he can roam without crossing beyond some invisible boundary and being called back.

"Are you hungry?" Pepper's voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he spins back around. She looks so relaxed, comfortable as she leans back against the counter, one arm crossed over her stomach while she slowly downs the bottle of water. It's just _odd._ Seeing Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, in all her professional glory versus her now, in a sweater and leggings, is surreal.

"Ahh," he hesitates, "we just ate."

"You're a teenage boy. Isn't that supposed to be your number one hobby?" She walks over towards Peter and leans forward on the counter across from him, forearms resting on the marble. Peter grins, but it's weak. The excitement of the last half hour or so is wearing off.

"I thought it was supposed to be sleep." He brings his own water bottle towards him and picks at the cool, wet plastic label wrapped around it. _Spider-Man_ always has and always will be his number one hobby. Though it's not quite a hobby, is it? A job? That doesn't feel quite right, either. Civic duty, maybe? _Penance?_

"Peter," Pepper interrupts in a way that indicates it's not the first time she's called his name. That's at least twice in a single evening, and absently Peter thinks back to how often that was the case with him and May as well. Attention now on her, she repeats, "If you feel up to it, I can ask Tony to come up."

_Too soon. Too soon._

There's a modicum of guilt in his stomach that he knows is unwarranted when he says, "Actually if it's alright, I'd kind of like to crash soon."

Pepper's silent just long enough that Peter starts peeling the label from the bottle before finally she nods her head. Peter sighs in relief, having wondered if she was going to press him to talk, or eat, or just anything other than what he was asking. Something of this must read on his expression because she frowns softly before circling around the island and pulling his duffle up off the floor and over her own shoulder. Peter freezes, eyes widening just a hair. _His suit._

It's not like she's going to suddenly, _oh wow, Peter, your duffle feels like it's full of secrets, let's check it out,_ but damn if it doesn't stress him out. When his gaze finally flicks up from the duffle to meet hers, she's looking at him with narrow, curious eyes. Peter laughs nervously, awkward, but doesn't offer anything up.

They stare at each other like that for another few seconds before Pepper finally snorts in amusement and turns towards the hall leading off to the right, tossing over her shoulder, "You and Tony are gonna get along fine."

\---

The square footage of this room _has_ to rival that of he and May's whole living room. Yet another room in this mansion disguised as a penthouse that has Peter spinning slow circles in the center. He can appreciate the awe of the space, but its overwhelming unfamiliarity and _emptiness _is suffocating. They'd not have his furniture over and set up until tomorrow, so, in the meantime, a foreign bed in a foreign room will have to do. He drops his bag by the door and makes a beeline for the mini hall off in the corner that leads to a private bathroom but, _more importantly_, leads to a closet catty-corner to that of the bathroom and _shit_. The closet is impressive and sized _gloriously_ in that it's the perfect area for Peter to set up shop to work on anything _spidery_ without fear.

Peter knows inherently that he shouldn't be exhausted as he is right now, but he also knows this feeling is going to be his new normal for _a while_. It had wrapped him up nice and cold over some number of weeks following Ben's death, had May in its clutches for _months_. It'll only grow worse before better. Might as well lean into it, yeah?

It's as he's stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel from a heated towel rack - _because how cool is that?? _\- that a different yet all too familiar voice off somewhere in the background pulls his attention. Although walls upon walls upon walls separate his bedroom from _wherever_, Peter can hear it, even if just barely. The distinct, media-saturated voice of Tony Stark makes his heart rate pick up, and some of that bone-weary exhaustion seeps from him. Wild to think that he would be living with Tony Stark, wilder still to realize he's less than half a football field away from _Tony Stark, holy shit, it's Tony Stark._

Their voices had been all but eradicated while he was in the shower. If he weren't Spider-Man, he wouldn't be able to catch any of it and _anyway he knows it's very wrong to do, yes it is, _but Peter wanders into the bedroom all too aware that in doing so Tony and Pepper's voices grow just a pinch more clear.

This is wrong. So very wrong. And yet -

_"How are you feeling?"_

Peter crouches next to his duffle, unnecessarily checking that his suit is still safely tucked away before pulling sweats and a tee from it while picking up Pepper's tired, considering pauses as she says to Tony, _"Sad… Anxious. But right now? Utterly exhausted." _

And, honestly? Mood. Peter glances between the floor, hall to the bathroom, and the door before ultimately dropping the wet towel onto his duffle bag before slipping into his clothes and heading for the bed. That exhaustion from before hadn't _entirely_ left him while he'd been in the shower, but it had washed away just enough that he felt like he'd been able to breathe without that the energy in doing so might pull him under.

He's just tucked himself into what feels a lot like hotel bedding when Tony's soft _"Come 'ere"_ tugs at Peter's chest. Something in the warm lilt of his voice pulls at memories of May pulling him into a hug after a particularly daunting day. It makes Peter frown, very much wishing now that he couldn't hear the two of them. Resentment bubbles in his chest. Pepper is _fortunate _to have someone - _anyone_ \- she can turn to right now for comfort. Hoping to soften the overly firm pillow, Peter punches it a few times before settling further into the bed. Anger seems to settle into him near as deep as he has into the bed. May used to tell him that falling asleep angry cemented the negativity into your center. Well, she's not here anymore, is she? Fuck his center.

Peter pulls the comforter over his head, but still, he can hear Pepper's muffled, _"I took care of the hospital"_ followed by Tony's, _"Buried them up to their necks in NDA's, didn't you?" _

The world is cruel. That Peter actually wishes exhaustion would consume him but _won't_ only ignites his anger further, and he whips the covers off him just enough that he can slide out of bed. It's not going to work. _Of course_, it won't. Still, Peter takes the previously discarded towel and presses it into the crack beneath the door, hoping to drown out the rest of Pepper and Tony's conversation. Her response is lost to the aether, but Tony's resigned, _"We'll have to do the same with the school. Where's he at?"_ has Peter nearly groan in distress. He does _not_ want to overhear the two of them talking about him.

_"Midtown, actually. He's a smart kid, Tony. There on a scholarship."_

One he busted his _ass_ for -_ thank you very much_ \- considering Midtown doesn't _do_ scholarships. Something Tony, to Peter's surprise, isn't unaware of, if his confused, _"Midtown doesn't do scholarships. I've offered to sponsor"_ is anything to go by.

Why the hell he didn't grab his headphones before leaving the apartment is beyond him. Peter crawls back into bed, burying himself under all the sheets, uselessly going so far as to stack a pillow both beneath and on top of the sheets where his head is covered. Still, it doesn't entirely drown out Pepper's soft, _"They did for Peter."_

\---

Peter yawns, lying awake once again and staring at the ceiling as he pushes thoughts of his new reality to a corner of his mind that he's not yet ready to wade. Twisting onto his side practically buries him into the crevice where the bed meets the wall, and wouldn't it be nice if, in doing so, he could just bury the dreams with him? That'd be too easy- and easy, _smooth_, isn't the _Parker Way_.

It's not likely he's slept for long, but without a phone or even a digital clock, Peter can't be sure how long he's managed to sleep. The distinct, blessed silence outside the - _his_ \- bedroom door offers the assumption that it's still late in the night. His sleep schedule is so topsy turvy, but _god_, the notion of sleep is terrifying. Yet, at the same time, being awake hurts too. The absence of familiarity and _family_ weighs heavy in his chest, and really the whole thing _sucks_. He absently drags a finger along the wall in front of him, willing his mind to go blank but not at all surprised with his failure to do so.

Not being able to just grab his mask and take off into the city for some fresh air is distressing. The whole thing has him feeling ten types of trapped.

Peter throws the sheet off and, honestly, it immediately feels like too much energy, too many spoons. It's another few minutes staring at the ceiling before he finally sighs heavily once more and tumbles out of bed. It's not like he's a hostage or a prisoner, but still, Peter hesitates at the door, instantly nervous and apprehensive about wandering a place that isn't his. Like, sure. He lives here now, but?

_Fuck it._ Peter drags a hand down his face and kicks the towel away before slipping out of the room. The hall is dark - _imagine that_ \- but Peter's vision is clear. This time, sneaking around, he doesn't bother to tiptoe because, well. _Spider-Man_.

The kitchen is _so _lovely, and Peter tries not to think about how much fun May would have cooking - _burning_ \- all of the new recipes she has tucked away for rainy days.

Peter doesn't hesitate to make the executive decision this time; it is _probably_ fine if he cautiously pokes through the cabinets and fridge. _Christ_, he's hungry. Given his metabolism, he should eat, _needs_ the sustenance. But, honestly? Nothing sounds appealing. It'll all taste like sawdust anyway.

Where one wall of the living area is near exclusively windows, another wall is dominated by bookshelves, and Peter finds himself drawn to it, pausing every so often to on titles that immediately capture his attention. He's determined not to touch, not to handle anything and risk leaving it out of place, but caves when he spots it there- third shelf at the end.

_"Standing in Solidarity: Letters from My Grandmother"_

Reverently, Peter pulls his aunt's book from the shelf, turning it over and brushing a thumb across her picture on the back cover. There's a tightness in his chest he tries to ignore as he turns it back over in his hands and, out of curiosity, flips the front cover open.

Peter's not disappointed, and he runs his fingers over the impression of her writing on the page. It takes a great deal of self-discipline not to parse together what she's written in the cursive script she always teased having developed to force her nursing students to actually _focus_ on her feedback. Though, Peter thinks it's safe to assume that it's not feedback May has left on the inside of Pepper's copy of the book.

He gently places the book back onto the shelf and spins around to face the entirety of the room. It's like, in doing so, in standing with his back to the wall facing the broad expanse of a home he didn't ask for, something inside him snaps. His clothes feel too tight, too scratchy. The silence is _deafening_ and _are the walls closing in? It definitely feels like they're closing in._

"FRIDAY?" Peter's voice seems to crack, and he tries to clear it quietly before continuing with an uncertain, "Is there, I don't know, a balcony, maybe?"

The silence still is deafening. Peter's about to start debating whether or not straight up poking around until he finds something to distract him, regardless of consequences, will be worth it when finally, the A.I.'s smooth voice echoes through the room. "There is a balcony on the East side of the building."

Just like that, small panels lining the floor illuminate a soft rouge, guiding his way through the penthouse and towards what ultimately must be the balcony. Peter grins. It's like a video game - Like he's tracking along a quest. It's almost like he's forgotten the gravity of the world around him for an unsettling few minutes as he lets himself play in the space of a spy, making his way through the villain's lair.

The double glass doors feel like the final boss, and Peter comes up short when he reaches them. He chews on the inside of his cheek as he debates the likelihood of tripping an alarm if he continues. How embarrassing would _that_ be? Peter drops a hand to his hip and bites at the nails of the other. Surely FRIDAY wouldn't have let him get all the way to the doors just for them to go off when he followed through. She's literally the embodiment of _Artificial Intelligence_ technology. There's no way she's guided him all the way under the assumption he's just going to what, stare at it? The most straightforward plan of action is to just, ya know, _ask_ her if he can step outside. But he really doesn't want to give her the option to say no and honestly, what's the point in having doors wired with alarms when you're a bajillion floors up, and you're _Iron Man_.

_Fuck it._

Thankfully, no alarm betray him, and the relief that floods through him bring tears to his eyes. It's amazing. _Amazing_.

As soon as he steps into the night's frigid air, he feels some semblance home. It's chilly and windy and _loud_, and for the first time in nearly two days, Peter feels like he can _truly_ breathe again. The skyline is breathtaking this late in the night. He inhales deeply as he approaches the balcony ledge, raising his arms over his head and bending them to feel the one, two, _three_ pops down his back that always had May cringing so hard she'd basically slide right off the couch just to get away from it. Though his heart aches something fierce, the memory tugs at his gut and pulls from him the ghost of a smile. There's no guard rail, and Peter lowers himself, sitting there comfortably on the ledge.

The sounds of the city wrap him in something soft and familiar. It's absolute chaos down on the streets of New York, but it's _his_ chaos, ya know? Well, maybe not entirely his. This is all too apparent if he allows himself to listen a bit _too_ closely. And so, he doesn't allow himself to do so. There are lights and car horns and chatter, and Peter lets it wash over him; lets it convince him that maybe if he closes his eyes, he can convince _himself_ he's home.

\---

Peter's not sure how long he sits there, but when a warm, fleece blanket is suddenly draped over his shoulder, he startles. Still, he doesn't pull his eyes from the city skyline. He swallows thickly, frozen in place almost as the figure joins him on the platform's ledge, legs dangling freely over the side.

It's _not_ Pepper Potts.

Peter caves, drops his head and rubs the side of his hand up the bridge of his nose until he's rubbing the tired lines between his brows. It's a distraction, something to do with his hands, uncomfortable with the very apparent lack of excitement sparking in his chest. Any other day - any other _time_ \- would have Peter vibrating at a different frequency. Vibrating right off the side of the building. For now, he's too bone-weary and exhausted to do anything beyond mindlessly digging the heel of his palm into his eye.

"Hey, Kid." The man's voice is soft, gentle. Cautious? That'd be warranted.

"Mr. Stark," he replies just as softly. When Tony doesn't immediately respond, Peter chances a sideways glance. The man isn't looking at him but rather instead gazing out over the city.

I'm sorry about-" Tony trails off, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry about your aunt."

"Me too," Peter says almost to himself as he wraps chilled fingers around the edges of the blanket and draws it tighter around him. "Thank you."

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? All the tragedy. And the world, just. Keeps spinning." Much like Peter, it sounds as if he's speaking more to himself. And, when _Peter_ doesn't immediately respond, Tony finally turns towards him, meeting curious eyes.

Peter's jaw tightens reflexively, unsure of how to respond. Instead, he counters with, "Did I wake you?"

Tony snorts, eyes breaking away from Peter and looking back down towards the streets. "That would require having actually been asleep. Which definitely isn't _my_ number one hobby."

Something about the callback to a conversation he hadn't been part of should bother Peter, but it doesn't. Instead, his words pull from Peter a hint of a smile, and together they let a comfortable silence settle between them. The lights and noise below them put on a show, and it's easy for Peter to lose himself in it. Without preamble, Tony turns away, letting the corner of his blanket slip from his shoulder as he reaches out for something off to his side.

It's a phone.

Tony lays it between them, an offering of sorts. When Peter takes it in hand, it's with care and caution, knowing full well the device is the most expensive thing he's ever held. It doesn't help his nerves that they're about ninety floors up. Without thought, Peter scooches back an inch or two, oblivious to Tony's watchful gaze. There's a reverence in the way he brushes a thumb across its chilled surface.

"Pepper mentioned the mishap with your last. I hope this is an adequate replacement." Peter detects a margin of humor in his voice that indicates he knows full well a high tech StarkPhone prototype is _very much more_ than adequate. Still, the comment does the trick and Peter snorts in amusement. Peter wants to shoot back a witty retort, but he just doesn't have it in him.

Instead, with a weak grin, he says, "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"It's Tony."

Peter nods absently at the correction and pulls the phone into the warm safety of the blanket wrapped around him and further curls it close against his abdomen.

"You wanna head back in?"

_He very much does not._

"When May worked night shifts," Peter side-steps, voice strained. "When May worked night shifts, she'd come home just before the sun was up. And sometimes, if I woke up early enough, she'd take me up to the roof, and we'd watch the sunrise together." He pulls his knees tighter against this chest, letting the phone nestle trapped between his abdomen and thighs so he can once again draw the blanket snug around him, hands clasping in front of his knees. "I'm going to miss that."

Peter eyes are trained resolutely on the horizon as if May might rise with the sun. Tony doesn't speak again. Instead, he tugs his own blanket more firmly around him and settles in, shoulder lightly brushing Peter's and, together, they watch the sun slowly cast her light over the city.

**Author's Note:**

> Bless! Can I break my own heart?? Cuz here I am, soft over this whole damn family. I hope you enjoyed it, and I do hope the wait was worth it. 
> 
> And I hope everyone is staying safe and doing their gosh darned best! <3 
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr if you'd like at [Coconutknightshade](https://coconutknightshade.tumblr.com/)


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